


What Comes After The Thunder

by Syan_Mythros



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Gen, Post Reactor, Spoilers for 3.0 content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 08:52:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8280080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syan_Mythros/pseuds/Syan_Mythros
Summary: A drabble written for Hermenost's awakening post reactor for RP purposes.  Stands alone as a story with more installments to follow.  [This is headcanon/tied to my personal Hermenost (Hermenost Treaumaille) on Mateus server.]





	

Wet. 

The first thing that truly struck him as he clambered back from the inky depths was that he felt wet. Other questions soon followed, flitting into his head as he tried to tear back the darkness that still kept him in it’s embrace.

Why was he wet?

Where was he that he could get wet?

A flash tore through him, searing his mind and setting every nerve aflame. He had been fighting. Was this wetness his own blood? No, surely he would not be so aware if he was coated in his own blood. He would be dead certainly. His eyelids felt heavy, impossible to lift as he felt his fingers twitching, grasping and reaching out to determine what he was currently sitting on and against. 

Rain. 

He could feel it now, hitting his face. Those heavy eyelids that slowly dredged open. Chartreuse orbs gazed up, the fog clearing from them as he managed to look around. Rocks and cliffs surrounded him and surprisingly greenery. Trees and grass, things he had long missed from Coerthas were here in abundance it seemed. He sat, marvelling at the area surrounding him til a shiver tore through his body. Part from being wet and cold, partly from the realization he had no clue where he was. That brought the stark realization that there were a great many things he could not recall. Snippets of memories, as if drifting through a hazy fog and only springing up for a moment were all he could grasp at. 

Cavernous halls. 

White armor trimmed in blue.

A gnarled hand reaching for him.

A twinge ripped through him, his entire body feeling a jolt of pain though there was no logical cause of it. A phantom pain perhaps? He was unsure. Again he pressed to drag anything that might aid him to the surface.

A fight, aether surging through him.

Another stab of pain, this time lower. A hand slid to his abdomen. Covered in that white and blue trimmed armor he had briefly seen in his mind his hand rested there. He had been run through. Hadn’t he? A flash again of fighting before a searing pain tore through his skull. Had he died? If so then where was he? Why was he here, wherever here was? Why was he able to feel the rain and the cold if he was dead. That made little sense to him. In fact most things at present made little sense to him. Another shiver tore through him as a chilled wind blew through, the rain coming down now with more ferocity than it had moments before. Hermenost paused, realizing that this was not the best place to puzzle out these mysteries. At the moment self preservation was in his best interests and finding a spot safe from the elements to afford him time to recuperate and rationalize.

Those pale eyes stared in the two directions available to him from his spot seated along the canyon wall. The path it seemed went north or south. With no clue where he was or where he was going he shakily stood, arms bracing himself against the canyon walls. A few feet from him he saw his axe, wet and laying in the grass there. It seemed to call to him, the only familiar thing in this strange place and situation. Once Hermenost was assured he was able to stand he made his way to it. The weight was comforting as he retrieved it, armored hands hefting it easily. This he knew. This if nothing else could offer him a small comfort in the confusion. With it in hand again he looked once more to the two paths before him. 

Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance a herald for a worse storm that seemed to be coming. A flash of lightning ripped through the sky then, splitting it in two. That had come from the north. The south path was still dark yet free of lightning. A part of him felt a pull, that the lightning had been a sign. So close to something he could only grasp at wisps of, a memory hidden most likely, he felt his feet begin to move. North. He would go north and see. The Fury had guided him before and perhaps she was again. That thought halted his footsteps for a moment, a frown crossing his dark lips.

The Fury. Halone. She was the one he followed, his deity and yet… The strangest sensation that he had betrayed her filled him. A pang ached in him yet he could not place why. Feet began to carry him forward again, axe in hand as the rain and wind began to surge around him. Thunder echoed, closer and closer still with each step he took. A stray thought that he had chosen poorly crossed his mind. Perhaps he ought to have gone south. Surely to go deeper into the heart of the storm was folly. The canyon he walked in wound around and around, a steep rock face on the opposite side led down into the cavern below where stormy turbulent waters roared along. He slipped on the wet ground as it began to shift and go downhill at a steeper angle and he paused to regain his bearings. One hand held at the rock wall to his left, the other held his axe up. He wouldn’t use it unless he needed more to keep from sliding into the ravine.

A glance was cast back over his shoulder. There was little sense in backtracking now. At the very least he tried to find some form of shelter from the weather as the chill was beginning to get to him. Water drenched hair hung down, threatening to obscure his vision and the hand on the rock wall moved away long enough to push it back. Hermenost gave a quiet sigh and began moving forward again, into the storm as the night darkened around him. At least once more the ground threatened to slip from beneath him and he took to steadying his movement with the rocks to his left. It seemed ahead the area opened up and he could only hope that there would be something there. He felt weary, soaked through and his limbs were beginning to feel heavy. Common sense told him he needed to find shelter and soon. 

Each footfall became slower, more sluggish as the area opened up. The lightning tore through the sky again, casting strange shadows from the vines and large roots that came down over the rock walls from above and he could see it. Ahead where it opened up, a small spring and a dock built off the cliff it sat near. To his front and left however was his salvation. A hut, dark and with no signs of life, but still at least some form of protection from the elements. His pace picked up, the small rush of adrenaline from the thought of being free from the storm enough to propel him onward. The closer he got the more he realized it looked abandoned. Though the windows and door were closed and intact it was clearly not in use at present as no light from any source illuminated the panes of glass. 

His footsteps left dark stains on the wood of the porch as he stepped up on to it, boots thudding heavily upon the wood. It seemed sturdy enough and he felt no concern that he would fall through. His free hand came to knock at the door, hoping that perhaps someone was inside and would be kind enough to offer him shelter from the weather til it eased up and he could be on his way. A gust of wind whipped through and he shivered before once more knocking. No answer yet again and he gazed through the window beside the door. It was dark inside, dust covering the table and book cases and other bits of furniture he could see. No signs that anyone had been there for quite some time. He frowned, wondering if this was to be his fate. On the porch he was protected from the rain, though the cold wind still tore through and left him shivering in the once glorious white armor. His hand slipped from it’s place on the door and he sighed. With a quiet prayer to the Fury to forgive him he tried the handle. Surely it would not be unlocked and yet when he tried it yielded to him. The door creaked slowly as he pressed it open and the musty smell of dust and old tomes reached his nose. Another flash of lightning only cemented his plan as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him, bolting it with no second thought.

It was dark and yet with the flashes of lightning he could find his way around. The first step was the lantern on the desk. Soon enough it was helping to illuminate the area and he felt a bit of weariness overtake him. With the shelter situation handled for the moment he could lower his guard and find a moment’s respite at least. His axe stayed by his side as he moved around exploring the small hut. Surely it was perhaps unneeded but the weapon was familiar and comforting in these moments. He could see an upper level over part of the hut which seemed one large room. A bed was visible and a few more things. Carefully he made his way over and carried the lantern up the ladder with him after placing his axe on his back. He would not leave it, or the light behind right now as he moved to place the lantern on the bedside table. Dust covered the sheets and he could hear the rain pounding on the roof harder now from here. A glance at the roof told him that it was intact and he had naught to worry about raining. Though warmer inside than outside he still felt a chill as the damp clothes beneath his armor clung to his body.

Hermenost carefully set the axe down, propped against the wall near the nightstand before he set to work on the next step. Armored gloves were removed as carefully as he could manage in his haste to get the sodden armor underneath off. Carefully set aside he moved to the straps that held the chestplate and pauldrons on. The storm hammered outside and he felt himself incredibly lucky to have found this place. Surely much longer out there and he would have succumbed to something far worse than the chill currently creeping over him. Each piece of armor was set aside as carefully as he could so it could dry and to keep it safe from damage. All too soon Hermenost was down to the dragonskin breeches and cloth shirt he wore underneath. Socks were tossed aside and he began to struggle out of the shirt. It clung to his form and he felt another shiver tear through him. At this point the dusty bed looked like a welcome sight with it’s thick blankets and he felt a pang when he realized that he had nothing else to wear. 

Shirt set aside as well he was left in naught but those dragonskin breeches and quickly he looked around. A dresser stood to the right of his axe and he paused. Was it right? No, surely borrowing something to clothe himself in was better than sleeping in a stranger’s bed in the nude. He would be glad to wash the garments and return them, or replace them as necessary if it was a concern. He pulled open the top drawer, finding small odds and ends as well as rather old and dingy socks. Those he opted to ignore and closed the drawer and moved to the next one. Shirts here, not of the same quality as his own but still serviceable were there and he pulled the softest one out and donned it. That drawer too was closed and he moved to the third. Again, the softest pants that looked as if they would fit were removed and he set them on the bed. A cautious glance was given again before he undid the leather lacings and removed his bottoms and undergarments. Quickly the other pants were pulled on, thankfully with a tie to help hold them on. They were a bit large for him but they would suffice. 

Dry clothes felt welcoming and he could feel the chill easing slowly from his body. Carefully he set himself on the edge of the bed, eyes gazing at the white armor displayed before him. A flash of a memory struck at him quickly, followed by another but the two made little sense on their own and he felt weariness overtake him again. Sleep, that was what he realized he needed. He would muddle through the mystery and confusion, the missing memories and state of things in the morning. A quick dust off of the bed after he stood left it more presentable and he pulled the blankets back. Despite the musty smell of disuse it seemed in fine condition and he eased himself in before curling up in the blankets. Exhaustion slid over him, faster now than before and he barely got out a murmured prayer to Halone before sleep claimed him.


End file.
